Nothing New in the East
by Matita Pere
Summary: Chapter 6 added. Is anyone else interested in Sauron? R&R!
1. Default Chapter

Hi! 1) These guys are all Tolkien's creation (save a few characters, which are mine). 2) I like reviews, pleeeeze!!!!!!! 3) This is a humorous, quase Mary-Sue (don't run!!!) fic. Enjoy!!!!  
  
Chapter 1  
  
It had been a long day for the Dark Lord, and he was now returning tired and dusty across the long waste before his main gate of Morannon. He walked briskly, a tall dark shape in the setting sun, a menacing figure. It seemed unreal, to the orc guards standing on the battlement of the gate, as he approached. He looked as carved form black stone and smoke and shadow, a figure from an elder world, and image come from a nightmare or an elven song that spoke of dread.  
  
The orcs cowered and ran as they saw him come, more afraid of the stories and the legend that surrounded their Lord, than of any actual threat he brought. In fact, Sauron was not concerned in appearing threatening at all right now. He was a bare mile from the main entrance to his land, a place he knew none dared oppose him, and where he was safe and sovereign. He did not need to use his skill of terror to make his coming known, his servants feared him enough as it was. Besides, he had other matters to think about.  
  
The day had been long. That morning, as he sat on his throne in the tall Tower of the Eye, and gazed upon his realm, he noticed a strange occurrence. A brisk of blue flame and then gold in a place on the north east of the gate, where all should normally be barren and empty. Fearing his enemies were up to something, not wanting to send an orc scout (too much noise, and so sloppy on the job), and not having any of his Nazgul at hand, he decided that a walk would be an interesting diversion, so he set himself to see upclose what it was.  
  
To his surprise, a new dragon attack was being planned on his land. Apparently Scarath, his dragon-enemy of old was not deterred by his infamous loss nearly a century ago, when Sauron led an orc/troll army against him and his minions on the plains east of Mordor, and dizimated the fire out of them. Scarath had returned, with a new ally, a poisonous Dragon from the Rhun wastes, and the blue - gold flame Sauron saw was the morning breath of this beast.  
  
The battle had been long, and Sauron barely won. He missed his Ring dearly, for it would have given him extra strength, but he was not a small rat to reckon with even so. In fact, lately, he had felt his strength increase, and had been practicing his new favorite skill: transformations. Sauron was of old a shapeshifter, his transformation into an enormous wolf at the meeting with Luthien was recorded in many an elven song (not much else was recorded correctly about THAT meeting, Sauron noticed as he walked, but than the elves always had a manner to glorify themselves in their songs, exaggerate somewhat their noble deeds, and present their enemies as horrid phantoms or distorted beasts).  
  
Shapeshifting, as any skill, was 10% talent (or, in Sauron's case, innate Maiar power), and 90% practice. Even loosing his Ring did not matter to Sauron's abilities, which only increased with the years, and that particular day he could feel satisfied that he had overcome the poison dragon by turning himself into one of the kind himself. Sauron smirked satisfiedly thinking how imposing he had been, a golden-red dragon, huge in size, with scales running smooth as mail down his back, fire roaring from his opened jaws, teeth as elven swords and white. Nothing like he looked now, a tall shape man-like and clad in simple black, hood over his face and raven hair that lay loose and dirty over his shoulders. Could use a bath, he thought. The walk had been long and he was feeling at the end of his strength. 


	2. Chapter 2

Morranon approached steadily. Fire burned placidly at its battlement, the darkness behind it colored from time to time by a twist and churl from the Mountain. Ah, home, Sauron thought.  
  
He was just about to fall into a slow song about fire and darkness, when he heard a sound behind him. It was as of feet running swiftly over the barren ground, approaching him, yet they were light, as elven footfalls. "Hey!" a clear voice rung out behind him, calling him to stop, and Sauron took the hilt of his sword, knowing the voice to be elven, and thinking what folly of this elf to stop the very Him on such a place.  
  
If a spy it was, not a better job had it done than his rampant, loud, stupid orcs. Sauron turned slowly as the elf approached, and gazed at it. The elf was smaller then they usually were wont to be, clad in gray as a starless evening, a hood covering its face, and it panted from the speed. It stopped a short distance from the huge black figure of Sauron, and he thought how foolish it did not recognize an enemy.  
  
The elf did not speak for a while, trying to catch its breath, and then it stopped, and looked straight at the Dark Lord.  
  
"What would you here, master elf?" Asked Sauron "This is not a place for your kind, hated as you are, enemies of all darkness. What do you seek?"  
  
The elf smiled and took his hood of "I am no elf, or else I think so. And master is not correct either, mistress would be more in hand. I am Aurora, and am human. Are you Lord one of the ringwraiths, the dignified servants of Him that is master of all lands?"  
  
Aurora was a woman, small, slender, darkhaired, a lady of the eastern peoples. She was of no astounding beauty, but her eyes glowed in the dusk, and Sauron though they had changed color somehow as she spoke. He was surprised, to say the least. Not only did the enemy turn out to be one of his own, but never had a woman approached him so boldly. He thought her curious, and liked the "Lord of all lands" remark, so he decided to answer.  
  
"Ney, I am not of the brotherhood of the mortal men that serve the Eye. But close to them I stand, and any matter you would speak to them off, to me you may address as well. What is your will, and the speed that carries you?"  
  
"I, Lord, have found something" Aurora began "I do not know what it be, but of importance it seemed to me, and I though wisest to report to one of the Nine" "For a woman, you have much courage. Not many dare approach the Nine" Sauron answered.  
  
"Lord, I have known them a while now. I do not fear them. I served in Dah Dahlur, on the northern border, and one of the brotherhood was my direct liege." "Of what lineage are you, and from what land?" Sauron liked this easterling, brave, intelligent, loyal. More of such, and he would probably have an easier time ruling.  
  
"I am Aurora. I have no other names or lineage, I was found by the orcs in a ditch by the road as a babe. I have no land, I grew up in the vales of Ithilien, wandering at will." She said, now more relaxed, and happy she found someone courteous and intelligent to talk to. This strange Lord appealed to her. He was tall and black clad as a Nazgul, yet different. Instead of cold and distant, as the Nine were, he was warm, a heat radiated from him, as a fire burning, and he seemed very, very present. He had a pleasant voice too, to her ears, used to the orc-screaming. It was manly, yet old and of an odd accent.  
  
Sauron thought her story much to strange for belief, although he had held her gaze as she spoke, and knew she was not deceiving him. "Found by orcs? And they did not slay you?" he said, amazed.  
  
"Aye, Lord, I know! Can you believe it? I think it a wonderful stroke of luck! They took me in as a pet, I suppose, old Gashaakur and his company. Then, as I grew, they accepted me as a collective daughter, and were very protective of me. I still see them whenever I can. Gashaakur is old now, and renown. He even stepped into the hall of the Great Lord himself once, do you know? It was after a battle with the foul men of Ithilien, and he had won. He laid his sword before the feet of Morgul the great, and he says The Great Lord sat on a black throne not five feet away, if it was a inch! But, anyway, of what I have found. Do you wish to see it? You seem to me a great Lord, of the tower, I deem?"  
  
"Yes, of the Tower I come" Sauron smiled "show me this wander you found" Aurora jumped happily, and led him in a busy trot to the vale in the north- east below. As they walked over the stones and crash ground Sauron asked her a few questions.  
  
"The name, Aurora? Whence does it come?" "Unusual for an orc, isn't it?" She said happily "Gashaakur gave it to me. He said that once when he was going through Mirkwood, and you know, he has been in Mirkwood, serving in the Dol Gldur, and he knows all the chieftains there, he heard this Lord mention that there had been an elven princess of great beauty, named Aurorariel, and he said I was as pretty as that one, or more, and so I should be called Aurora. I like it. What's your name, if I may?"  
  
Sauron thought that amazing, but answered. "I am He that you serve" Aurora did not pay much heed to that comment. She herself had thought that asking a great Lord as this one about his name was a boldness too great for any orc to take (she, oddly enough, thought herself to be an orc, or no better than one, and acted in coherence). Also, Mordor was a land of a thousand miseries, and that someone would not desire their name revealed was as natural as the black fogs over Orodruin. As for serving him, of course she served him. He was of the Tower, and she of the Ithilien orcs. What could be more natural? Sauron, on the other hand, thought her quite unusual. She lived in Mordor as an orc, or so it seemed, she looked in appearance as an easterling, she spoke as a human, and yet as she had ran behind him, he swore she was an elf. Quite unusual.  
  
"How old are you" he wanted to know. "Me?" She replied, a bit surprised. Noone had asked her that before, it didn't seem to matter. She had to stop to think, and yet it did not come to her. Age was not an issue, in her mind. She'd been around for a while, she guessed. In Mordor, there were no seasons, for her to judge how many springs had passed. She was randomly in and out of Ithilien, and did not see the year wane many times, and change into a new one. "I do not know" she responded, at length. "I have lived some time now." She thought that was a good enough answer. "And you?"  
  
This surprised Sauron greatly. She answered back every time, with a question. An eager mind, he thought. She might have been useful, if she were a man. Women were extremely rare in Mordor. Sauron thought them to be weak, and not capable of supporting a lot, and unfit for war. He never cared about them, not knowing any deeply. His mind had always been bent on ruling, power, great deeds, sorcery. A shame, he thought. With an eagerness as that, a loyalty, knowledge of the land and customs (and tongues), and an intelligence, she might have made a good leader. Or served in Barad-Dur. 


	3. Chapter 3

As Sauron did not answer her question, Aurora thought best not to bug him again, but led him quickly to the place she had seen the thing. Amazing it had seemed to her, and instinctively she knew what it was. The Lord will like it, she thought. At length, they came to a group of high ridges, created by the tempestuous weather of the region, sticking out from the vale as brown hand coming out of the parched earth. Aurora led him into a depression by the side of one of the ridges, and showed him a shaded nook in it. To his surprise, Sauron saw a golden egg.  
  
"Amazing, isn't it?" she whispered behind him, as he leaned forward to see, not believing his eyes (ha, ha).  
  
"Can it be?" he said, half to himself, in an old elfish dialect he liked. At this words, spoken softly and melodiously, Aurora stared up at him in wander. My, my, she thought. Here is one unusual one, eh? Speaking some elven tongue and all, he must be of the noblesse of the tower.  
  
"How was that?" she asked. The words in the elven tongue had caught her imagination, and images of moonlit nights beneath tall trees in a land of a hundred waters span through her mind. Moonlight and starlight and music in the evening, soft as the silk on the sails of a ship.  
  
Sauron span, and stared at her. "You dare?" he said, now menacing and dark, displeased with the remark. He did not like anyone to know that at times he spoke an old form of elvish, one of the first tongues he ever learned, and closest to his heart (which he did not want anyone to know he had). And the servant had been insolent, unprudent in her words, and disrespectful of his rank.  
  
"You speak your mind, and much to eagerly." he commented, his baritone voice now almost a hiss. "Perchance I should teach you the value of silence" The breath was that of a snake, and venom spilled in the words, cold dread hanging over them, and an icy menace in his eyes. Aurora, surprised, not to say the least, stared right up at them.  
  
Now at first, she had the look of a rabbit hypnotized by a snake on her, eyes wide and filled with fear, mouth dry and hands twitching as she did not dare move. The Lord, whom she judged a tall man, a Lord or king of the east, or a noble of the Tower, turned before her eyes into a wraith or worse, a darkness brooding around him as the hands of death, clammy and cold.  
  
She was terrified, standing thus alone in the dark waste with this being, as it towered before her and got ready to strike. What poison or deathly chill it would send her, she did not know. Than suddenly her eyes filled with tears. It was all too much. She had been well treated by Gashaakur and his company, but had been pushed around a lot when alone, and had really not had it easy. Now this person, whom she thought so fine and so polite, and who spoke so beautifully just a while ago was spitting venom at her.  
  
Gashaakur was great, but he knew and cared nothing of trees and ships and the sea. She wanted to be in a song, as the ones of old, and to think she was going to die here, alone, cold, and without doing anything yet seemed unfair, so she started crying at all speed. In a while, her own crying absorbed her so, that she forgot almost entirely of what had menaced her enough into the fit, and just stood there weeping and shaking, incapable to stop.  
  
Sauron stared at her in surprise. Mostly, his victims did not stir, too frightened to even think. Or they attempted one last brave, daring act of noble resistance, if they were great elves. But none ever cried.  
  
He let her finish. In a while, she calmed down enough to give him a sad yet defiant and angry look that said "You are so mean", and to cross her arms in protest. "You shall yet taste my scorn, easterling" Sauron said, still in the same cold voice. She was now upset.  
  
"I am not talking to you" she blunted his way, and turned around, and left in a protesting march. This was too much for Sauron, and he shouted "Still!" As he did that, being the Dark Lord, the sky turned black, and lightning struck the ridge near by, thunder tore the still air as an explosion, and the air stirred in malice and hate. A black whirlwind began to stir rapidly around Aurora, the dusty ground lifting up in clouds of gray and brown, menacing to choke her. Her eyes, already teary, welled up from the dust, her throat closed and she began to cough madly, her nose filled up.  
  
The wind began to grow, until there was a tornado circling her, swirling at great speed, lifting her up. Aurora screamed in fear as the wind rose her two meters up, her hair flew wildly around in it, she could not breathe or move, and the noise of the hurling black wind was like the bitter cry of a Nazgul, a shriek as of glass being cut by a sharp rock. It pierced her ears and her mind, and she passed out in one final sob.  
  
When Aurora woke up, her eyes were yet teary. The dust had not gotten out of them, or out of her nose and mouth, hair and dress. She recalled the horror of the black hurricane about her, and the voice of the Lord commanding Still!. She struggled up, terrified and angry, and looked around her.  
  
To her surprise, she had not slept for long, as she imagined. The golden sphere she had discovered was gone, but when she turned around looking the way they had come, she saw the Lord walking off, carrying it in his arms. It had all happened a few minutes ago, and he had not killed her. Moved by a sudden sense of anger and power, she impulsively ran after him.  
  
He was carrying a lot of weight, so she reached him lightly, and began to walk behind him. He said nothing, absorbed in his own thoughts, so she asked "Why did you do that?" Sauron suddenly stopped and turned around. There was that nuisance of an easterling again. She looked shabby now, dusty and hot from the run, her hair in disarray, her eyes bloodshot from the tears and the dust, her face dirty where the dust and the tears caked up, and the look on her face hurt, and frightened and sad. She looked rather like an abandoned dog. Sauron was not entirely angry at her, he had no reason. She was so inoffensive. An orc would be a greater menace. And she was not uncourteous, just bold and curious over the measure of an easterling.  
  
"Do you dare disturb me?" he asked, softly and menacingly. "Why am I disturbing?" she said "I was wanting to show you the egg, and you screamed at me, and did that horrible, horrible sorcery. Why?" "I will not argue with a witless orc brat. Be off, and be thankful, for I could have slain you, or worse." he turned and walked. She ran behind him again "All right, I'll leave, if so you desire. But know this: I am not afraid of you. You can not scare me. Go, with your precious egg and your loftily tone, Lord, go. See if I care." Aurora turned around, and walked off in the opposite direction, mumbling to herself. She had liked him first, was then afraid of him, hated him next, and now she decided she did not care about him two bits, and had better things to do. Sauron turned around, thinking this all nonsense, and looked after her. She was walking quickly, brushing the dust off herself, small, fast paces on the parched ground bearing her off to the distant Northeast. "Easterling" he said. "Come back now."  
  
She stopped for a moment, listening to him, and then stormed ahead on, not caring. "Return now" he said, the tone almost friendly. There was the voice she had liked at first. She kept walking now.  
  
"Come on. I'll feed you..." Sauron knew what his servants liked. he stopped. She was dreadfully hungry. "What with?" she risked  
  
Sauron laughed. This was unusual. She was hungry like a little orc, and yet wary as a wizard. And bold as a lord of men. "What do you like?" he asked. "Chiken." She was unsure of this. Never trust a tall guy dressed in black that does whirlwinds about you, carries enormous golden eggs without help and mumbles elfish.  
  
She suddenly stopped and realized. Sauron! Who else! she had of course heard all the horror stories the orcs told of him. His power, his looks, the Eye in the Tower, the Flame of the East. He who bathes in the fires of Orodruin. He who eats Gondor lords at his board. He who flies dragons and defies Balrogs. The Dark Lord. "Yes, chicken." she said, and walked toward him. He smiled and they went on, toward Morannon. 


	4. Chapter 4

Hello! This is chapter four. Do you guys like it? Should I change something? Let me know.  
  
  
  
"Mumbarghak sa khapui. Ush nag draag ehg?" Asked the guard of the seventh chamber, as Aurora stood before him. He did not like her looks, and did not believe when she said she had business with the Chief Goopur.  
  
"Asheku raskar gobudosh, uekali." she retorted, obviously bothered by the delay. She had business, and urgent. The message she brought was of great importance, but more urgent yet were the messages for the twin towers in the Ehkar Durhlin, where Sauron was summoning an army.  
  
It had been three months since Aurora had followed Sauron into the Morannon, wandering where she would finish: probably some pit in Gorgoroth, she thought, mining and whining.  
  
Yet Sauron thought that would be a waste of an agile messenger, so she was made a carrier for the Tower. She hadn't seen him since, and the messages she carried were no from him, but from the Lords of the Tower. She thought the whole thing an unexpected bother. She was much happier a simple footsoldier: no responsibility, no cares, could wander about at will since the company was family, and they did not bother, and in the case of a mess, the orcs looked out for their "Gobba" - orcling  
  
. Now she had to dress up in black, ride at all speed up and down Mordor, run like mad, get barred, yelled at and constantly stressed. The Tower was not all that either. There was hardly any time to stop and look about, and although she had seen some odd nooks she thought were excellent for exploring, and she thought he had seen (she swore it) a door that opened and closed by itself, there was all too much to do, and she had no time.  
  
Mostly she was running errands, like this one: messages to Chiefs, to Company leaders, to distant towers, to assembling armies. If she proved good, she might (oh, wow!) get to carry a message or two to the East or to the South, where the realms of Sauron outstretched. he, on the other hand proved a mystery. She didn't see him, hear from him, or have any hint of anything about him. It actually bothered her. She thought they had had a connection, of a sort, or liked to think that.  
  
Well, she thought, maybe because she now knew who he was, and this romantic notion of an attachment had developed. She really liked the idea. However, she reminded herself, she had not liked him too much before she knew of his identity. And besides, it would probably turn into a nightmare, anyhow. He seemed a bit jumpy, and vindictive. Now Gashaakur was the proudest orc in Mordor because of her. Imagine, one of his company, no other than the girl he decided to save, was made errand-rider of the Tower! He kept bragging about it, until he got into a fight with a captain of another company for it, and a Eastern lord had to interfere to stop the slaughter. 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  
  
  
  
On a particular day, Aurora was standing in the immense northern courtyard of the Barad Dur, awaiting Harfahlah, the servant of Lord Guthar to give her the sealed envelope she was to take to Minas Morgul.  
  
Harfahlah, a half orc half troll, was taking a longer time than ever, and she was bored. it was a dreary day, it seemed the Lord Sauron was in a mood for rain, and the mists about the Tower were thicker than ever.  
  
Aurora was in a incomplacent mood. She thought the whole thing a drag, and Minas morgul a bore. No one decent to talk to. And her company was trampling cross Ithilien now, in search for the Gondor rebels, and Huffa, one of the company, told her in confidence chances were they might be sent to Dol Guldur, where the Lord was now summoning great strenght.  
  
Mirkwood, her heart sang, how she longed to see it! And there was witchcraft there, and sorcery, and blue stars above the leafs of gray, and rivers. But not here. There was here stone, and massive walls, and metal and nothing much else.  
  
The courtyard was almost empty, and those that passed it were all in a hurry, and would not stop or look anywhere. The mist was growing. She thought how much better the western gate, the great gate, was. The courtyard there was constantly filled with an immense number of folk going to and fro, great eastern captains, Kings from the south, animals of all sorts, orcs and armies of trolls, and beasts, and an occasional monster.  
  
It was all fun and different. The northern gate was vast, yet smaller than the others, and rarely used. She heard the Lord Sauron used it on occasions to walk to Orodruin, but all knew he had his own private path, yet none dared guess where it lay.  
  
All to the northeast from the place she now stood was restricted, and guards kept it closely. besides, no one was mad to go looking. The mist descended thicker from the great Tower. Aurora looked up at it, a bit from where she stood, but could only see part of it, the rest enveloped in darkness and cloud.  
  
It is actually close, she thought. If there was an entrance on the ground floor, where the courtyard lay, it would be nearer. Yet she knew the Lord Sauron only entered through the vast bridge of iron, and the gate of stone, and the gaping arcs of the passages, and the enormous hall, and the massive stairs that led to the upper floors, where only the Lords walked.  
  
And then on, she guessed, up a tracing staircase, up and up, there into the night and the clouds. "Shoot" Aurora thought to herself " Why am I thinking so much about him! But still it wont hurt if I took a peak at the Tower. If I get to tell the company I touched the Tower, they would freak in joy!"  
  
So she left the place she stood, and strolled toward the tower. She made a full circle, almost around the courtyard, and then to the north, where she thought she had seen a passage that seemed to lead toward the Tower. 


	6. Chapter 6

+ Hello!!!* Cookies to you for reading this (  
  
Chapter 6  
  
It was narrow, and long, cutting through the massive walls of the inner circle of the Barad Dur. On the other side, she saw a courtyard paved in black bricks, far smaller than any other, and stables to her right, and a gate to the left, but she knew the dike was to that side, so it probably opened onto a movable bridge that led to the outer battlewall of the Barad Dur, and then beyond, if there was a way.  
  
On the other side of the courtyard, however, there was another passage. Aurora made her way there. This yard was empty, and silent, and she half run, knowing she shouldn't be there. Across the passage, she saw another courtyard, just as the one before it, and more stables, to the right, and a small door, to the far left, and no passage.  
  
"Damn", she thought! "How do I get to that blasted tower?"  
  
Then she looked up, to see it, and notice that it sort of grew from the stone structure about it, right where she was. In a corner, she noticed an entrance, and it seemed that it led inside, so she took a chance. A servants entrance, she reckoned, since it was right next to the stable, and it seemed small, and gray, and ordinary. It led straight at a staircase, which went narrowly and steeply up, in circles.  
  
She climbed on for long, until she saw a rest, and a door on it, but it was closed. It must be a side entrance to the first level, she thought. She decided to keep going up, since at the second level, if the door was opened, she could go to the northern gate, and there find the servant and the message she was to take.  
  
After another long, steep climb, she reached the second rest, and the door there was also closed. Now, however, she was so high up, and the climb had been so long, that she decided best to keep going, to see where it would lead her. The stair wound up and up, passing several levels.  
  
She got curious when she crossed the fifth level, and the stairs still seemed to have no end. Most stairs ended at a fifth level, because Barad Dur was not even, and most places were only that high. The towers were higher, and she now noticed she had to be in one of the towers surrounding the Tower of the Eye. And yet it had seemed to her she had seen the unpenetrable Tower itself form down there.  
  
The stairs went on past so many levels she forgot to count. She was already getting tired, and wandering whether it might be better to descend them sliding on the armrest, and whether if she gained speed she would fall off on a curve, when they ended. She had no idea how high she now was, since there had been no window. The last rest, at the end, led to nothing, she noticed. "Probably I climbed up a servant entrance that simply led to the various floors.", she thought. Yet she did not know that stair had long left the building about it, and wound up by itself, only part of a larger structure of a great Tower, that stood planted in solid rock, wrought of adamant and steel, surrounded by mist and cloud.  
  
It was cold, and it would have been dark, yet fires had burnt on torches all along the way, lighting the staircase dimly. Now she saw no end to it, and decided to take her chance on the door. She wanted to see which level this was. It was probably exclusive to Nazguls or the like, yet it intrigued her, and she wanted to take a peek, that was it.  
  
To her surprise, the door was opened. She put her head through, and saw a dimly lit, yet very wide corridor. It was luxurious and strange. Shadows seemed to walk in it, and the silence was filled with murmurs. The light on the silver torches glistened in a smoky manner, silverish gray, reddish yellow, and the walls on each side were covered in expensive drapes, red and dimly golden. The floor was a carpet, red and green and black, yet the patterns and the colors flooded into one in the strange light. She looked up and down, and no one was there, so she ventured a closer look at the level.  
  
She closed the door silently behind her, and tiptoed quickly to one side. The great hall wound on and on, and she wondered where she was. Then after a mild corner, to her left, there was a great salon, on step taking to a large space, draped and carpeted, lit with the glistening torches, in gold and red, and the drapes on the walls, falling in soft fabric, showed pictures of pheasants, and unicorns, and dragons, and wargs.  
  
There was no furniture there, no fireplace, and she thought best to keep down the hall, to see where it went. The corridor now began to show doors, massive, wooden doors, carved in a million wondrous patterns, battles and events, shapes and figures, beasts and birds of all kinds tracing on them, and golden handles. Some were wider, and some smaller, some simple and some opened twofold, and all were closed. She heard, at several instances, voices in them, and then she would trot quicker, desiring to hide behind the next turn, and yet no one came. It seemed a high place, one of great decisions, and she noticed she had to be in the place where the great Lords of the Tower met.  
  
She had been walking so for a while, wandering at all about her, never having seen such a luxurious or lofty place. The drapes were beautiful, and the carpet so soft, and there was an air of mystery and magic there she could not fully comprehend. It appealed to her, and yet she was wary that someone might come out, and kill her for spying. This would be more fun, if it were less dangerous, she thought.  
  
At length, she heard, before her, just around the soft curve, voices speaking, in the high Black language, and then in an eastern tongue, and a door closing with a rattle, and footsteps on the soft carpet. She panicked, and ran softly, and decided to hide behind the drapes while the Lords passed.  
  
There seemed to be two of them, talking calmly. She slipped behind the drapes on one end, and then noticed they were too short to hide her feet, which would stick beneath them, like a drape with feet, she thought. And although in the twilight she might even risk it, and they might not notice, she thought best to run on, and look for a more adequate place. Behind the next corner, she saw what she was looking for, a small nook on the wall she thought was a entrance of some kind, and yet so seated it seemed to lead elsewhere.  
  
She ducked into it just in time, and then covered herself with the drapes that fell over it in sloping fashion from the walls. The two men passed, eastern Kings it seemed to her, and she peeked out after them. Then she turned to see what was her refuge. It looked like a door, and it was smaller than the rest, and in a darker corner, and had no engravings or gold or marks on it. The handle was simple, and she turned it, and saw it was opened. Setting it ajar, she peeked into what seemed the exact same tower she had just climbed, except it could not be, because it led on up, and she had come to the end of hers.  
  
She thought it might be fun to look what was there, further on, and then come back down again into the draped hall. The stairs led up on, and soon she regretted her decision, since it was cold in the staircase, and it was stony, and not draped, and the torches were few, and had no glitter around them.  
  
"Well, it's true, now", she mentioned to herself. "They do say once you get used to the fine things in life, you do not know how to come back to the simple rude ones. These stairs have, for instance, no carpet, now. And a fine, fine, lady as me can only walk on a soft carpet, sincerely. And the walls, well, no drapes. I'll hang my Orc servants for this, inexcusable! And the torches! I wont like another torch if it does not flicker and sparkle in golden twilight!"  
  
The stairs wound up and up, and she began to tire again, and to almost head back, when they ceased, and she found herself on another rest, like the one before, and another door. This one had no marks, also, and it seemed simple. She stopped to rest there before going back to the drapes and carpet she had liked, and she shivered, for it was very chill up there.  
  
She guessed she had to be very high now. Then, just for luck, she pressed the handle on the door, and to her surprise it opened silently and quickly. It was not a hall that she saw now, but a large room. The tower must have slimmed down as it went up, she imagined. The room seemed empty, so she risked a quick peek. It was very dark, except a fireplace on the far end, which she could not see, from a divide, but could sense from the crackling and the heat.  
  
In fact, the room seemed so dry and warm after the cold, dark and damp staircase, she decided to slip in for a while, just to warm up, and because no one was in it, and because it intrigued her what was on the shelf to the right. She came in, and closed the door.  
  
The room was indeed dark, and yet she could see somewhat around her. It was very wide, and this, which was as an entrance to it, was draped and carpeted too, in black colors. To the right was carved into the wall a shelfboard, and there many books lay in disarray, and strange objects.  
  
"Hey, now", she thought. "This is not a room, you dwarp. These are chambers, as the Lords say. yes, that's it. Someone's chambers. Chambers have entrances, and smaller rooms about them." 


End file.
